


Intimates

by Canaan



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Multi, Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-02
Updated: 2011-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-20 01:12:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/207230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canaan/pseuds/Canaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a couple of inches changes Gwen's entire life.  AU from the end of <i>Meat</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intimates

**Author's Note:**

> File this under "things I never expected to write." It won't be to everyone's taste, but it's one of those stories that grabbed me by the throat and demanded to be written. Originally written for kink_las round 1, challenge 8, this version is expanded from the original linked drabbles on the advice of more than one of my talented and very patient beta readers, Yamx, AznJackFiend, and RobinC.
> 
> Disclaimer: RTD and the BBC own all.

  
**the end of the world**   


Gwen's world stops as the gun fires. She drops to her knees beside Rhys, pushing his shirt back to see where he's hit. She yells for Owen, trying to put pressure on both bullet wounds at once. "You're okay, Rhys, you'll pull through—you're too stubborn to die. Rhys, my Rhys. Rhys. Rhys, open your eyes!"

There's so much blood.

When Owen comes, he checks Rhys' pulse and pulls her hands away, holding her while she wails. Why did Rhys have to jump in front of her? She signed up for this; he didn't. She couldn't protect him, and now she's as alone as the rest of them.

She'd forgotten lesson number one: Torchwood kills.

  
**four days**   


The funeral is surreal, an interminable service where she has to stand straight and hold still while part of her wants to fling herself on the coffin, weeping and rending her clothes. She feel Brenda's eyes boring into her, silently asking how Gwen had dared to take her son away from her and get him killed.

Gwen asks herself that same question every minute of every day.

She puts on her constable's face—the one that doesn't show anything. Only her friends know her well enough to see past it. Ianto and Jack understand; they pretend not to notice. But Tosh squeezes her hand.

She makes it to the graveside before her knees finally give out. Jack and Ianto see it coming and prop her up.

She gets through it somehow.

Afterward, Ianto drives her home and makes her eat. She resents the babysitting, resents being made to take care of herself, but she's still glad not to be left alone. "Thanks," she says dully, between spoonfuls of soup that sit like lead in her stomach.

The look on his face hovers between awkward compassion and ineluctable sorrow. "You did it for me after I lost Lisa."

  
**seven weeks**   


Torchwood becomes Gwen's life. There's always something that needs doing, and it's easier to do it than to sit at home, listening to the silence. Jack tries to send her away at night; if she doesn't listen, he drives her, or sometimes Tosh does.

Owen can't stand to. Rhys’ memory bothers him more than Rhys ever did, alive.

He and Ianto remind her to eat, but she loses weight anyway. Some nights, Ianto brings take-away over and they watch mindless telly together. It's easier than trying to make conversation.

One Sunday, Ianto comes over with rubber gloves and scrub brushes. "I'd have done this sooner," he says, "but I had to wait till I was sure Jack would stay busy all afternoon. Cleaning bores him, and he deals with it by grabbing your arse."

Cleaning makes her really see the flat: not just the mess, but all the artifacts of the gaping hole in her life. She finds herself teary-eyed over Rhys' old football trophy. "I'll have to go through his things. Not yet, I mean—I'm not ready. But someday."

Ianto looks up from where he's mopping. "I'll help you, if you want. When you're ready."

  
**five months**   


"I need to move."

"Move where?" Ianto asks.

Gwen shrugs. "I don't care. I hate the idea of rattling around in some big, empty place like Tosh or Owen has, but I can't stay here. There's so many places in the flat where he isn't."

Ianto nods. He looks down at his hands. "Do you want to get a place together?"

She raises her eyebrows. "What's wrong with your place?"

He shrugs. "It's the same bedsit I rented when I came to Cardiff. Okay for one, but when Jack's over it's really not big enough."

Ianto . . . which meant Ianto and Jack, at least some of the time. Not that she imagines Ianto and Jack at home would be so very different to Ianto and Jack in the Hub. "Can you keep him from walking around the flat naked?"

That makes him laugh. "Maybe? Probably."

At least she'd be done with sitting at home alone. "All right, then."

  
**six months**   


"Looks like the bed's here," Jack announces, looking out of the window.

Gwen goes to the front door, holding it open for two blokes hauling in a mattress big enough for five. "Jesus, Ianto, that's not a bed, it's an estate."

"You should've seen the one Jack wanted," Ianto says.

There's more furniture yet to come in, and Gwen retreats to her bedroom to stay out of the flow of traffic. Her bed's no bigger than the one she had in university; she thought it would stop her reaching out for Rhys in the middle of the night. She stares at her new, diminished life and swallows hard.

She never hears Jack come in behind her, only feels his arms go around her. He doesn't tell her it will be all right. He just lets her lean against him and holds her while she cries.

  
**seven months**   


"Fuck!" Gwen swears as the smoke alarm goes off, running toward the kitchen. It's her night to cook, and she can't imagine what else might be burning.

By the time she gets there, Jack's got the oven open and is wielding the fire extinguisher like a pro. "It's tuna bake, not brain surgery," she moans.

Ianto opens a window to let the smoke out. "It's okay, I'll order Thai."

Somehow, their easy acceptance makes it worse. She closes her eyes, humiliated. When the smoke alarm stops, she looks up at the ceiling. "If there's an exam for being a grown-up, I'm doomed."

Jack hugs her. "Good thing we look after each other, then."

Ianto takes her other side. "Yeah, he'd have failed the bit on laundry," he says.

It would shock Rhys, but together, the three of them usually manage to navigate the mundanities of dinner and rubbish detail and clean underpants. And Rhys, she thinks, would be glad there's someone helping to look after her.

  
**ten months**   


The Rift has been incredibly active all week. Owen mutters that it's just as well he doesn't need sleep and Jack sends Tosh, Ianto, and Gwen home for an evening. They all know they'll be lucky if they don't get called in before morning.

It's too early for bed, so Gwen and Ianto sprawl exhaustedly on the sofa and pick at their pizza, watching a DVD together. By the time the movie's over, Gwen's half asleep and comfortable. She turns reflexively to Ianto, kissing his lips before her brain realizes what her body's about. She blinks. Thoughtful blue eyes look back at her.

Ianto leans his forehead against hers and hugs her.

Like kids at bedtime, they brush their teeth and put on pyjamas, ending up in his bed. It's so good, Gwen thinks, to have someone to hold as they fall asleep.

Three hours later, Jack's rousting them out of bed—something about a Vr'klonian creeper two streets over and flamethrowers in the back of the SUV. Gwen blinks sleep from her eyes and blushes, realizing Jack's just found her in bed with his boyfriend. "Um. Sorry," she says as she walks toward the bedroom door.

He kisses her cheek as she goes by. "Don't be."

  
**eleven months**   


When the three of them finally go to bed, she's ready for it. Jack's behind her, holding her close as he thrusts unhurriedly into her. She's facing Ianto, because he wanted to see her eyes. She'd have his cock in her hand, but the way they've got her sandwiched between them, she can't get her arm down there. After a while she gives up, stroking his back with one trapped hand as he rubs against her.

It's not the way she was expecting this to go. But it's good.

Gwen comes, and Jack does, and Jack reaches past her and strokes Ianto until he spills against her hip.

As the afterglow fades, Jack offers, "Do you want a tissue?"

She's a bit sticky, but too content to want anyone to get up. "I'm fine."

 _Fine?_ she wonders. No, not really. But for the first time, she believes that someday, she _will_ be.

  
**afterward**   


She doesn't have to say anything—neither of them seems to feel like she needs to explain. It's just what's running through her head. "I haven't forgotten Rhys," she says. "I never will." Gwen sighs. "But he wouldn't want me to spend the rest of my life alone."

Jack's heartbeat is strong and steady beneath her ear. Ianto murmurs, "Mmm-hmm."

She studies him. "It's you I don't understand." It's not quite a question, but she needs an answer anyway.

He brushes her hair back behind her ear. "You've been in love with Jack since before the Brecon Beacons."

It's probably true. She'd chosen Rhys, but not because she didn't love Jack, too. Jack, sod him, asks, "What makes you say that?"

Ianto says, "If she hadn't been, she'd have ended up in bed with you, not Owen. And you—you fell for her the day she started the job."

Gwen searches his eyes, knowing that that's okay, but still not knowing why. "And where does that leave you?"

He smiles a small, sweet smile and brushes a kiss across her lips. "Exactly where I want to be."


End file.
